The strength of kisses
by pkunnoot
Summary: Legolas helped Gimli find his strength, and Éomer just, unfortunately, be there.


Legolas barely contained his laughter as he saw a certain dwarf, drunk, curled up and slept soundly as a newborn babe on the ground. The snore was so loud, it wakes all other people from their own hungover.

"Legolas! Thank god, you've come." Éomer said. The Man warrior was sitting on the wooden bench, the same one that both elf and dwarf had had a drinking competition earlier in the evening.

Legolas grinned in return, greeting the man warmly.

After the Helm's Deep war had ended, and two days of burying and mourning for those who had been lost, it had been a turn of the celebration. The king of Rohan, Theoden, gathered all of his people, and also the remaining of the fellowship, in Meduseld, given them, the speech to carry on hope for the better days and to honor those that sacrificed their life.

Since the beginning of the feast, Legolas had been convinced to drink some of the men's ales, too strong, he would say, and Gimli, with his great reputation for never gone down for any drinking games, had started a playful competition between them, again.

And, unexpectedly, the men lost their golds that evening, for the dwarf was the first to yield, unwillingly, by falling asleep in the middle of the hall while Legolas discovered his ability over all ales and wine. (Yes, believe it or not, he had never drink anything like that despite his father's love for the wine.)

Gimli, despite being in the great golden hall, among so many men, couldn't be more careless about his appearance, or rather, he was in no state to remember any of it. But again, 'tis not such a bad thing, for most of the others were also drunk and most likely would not remember anything in the near interesting morning that was to come. The dwarf slept through all the dance and celebrate, until almost midnight, when everything came to the ending and Legolas who, for most of the process, wandered around outside of the hall, came back to see this exact scene in front of him.

Looked at the one sleeping peacefully on the ground, the elf knelt down beside the red-head and smiled fondly. Gimli was mumbling something about a salted pork and the hobbits, wrinkling his nose adorably.

"Well," Éomer raised his brows, arms crossing his chest while came standing next to the elf, watching all of his men stirred and starting to went to their own beds properly, if not steadily, all but one particular dwarf. Éomer looked down at Gimli's stout body, and then, at Legolas. "I was going to bring him down to his hall myself but if you would-?"

"Aye, I'll take him." Said the elf.

Legolas looked up at the man, unable to hide his fondness over his dearest friend and Éomer found himself startled at the looked on the elf's fair face.

From the moment the Rohirrim engaged with the three hunters in the middle of the field, or thorough out the war they had fought together, Éomer, having encountered such creature for the first time in his life, had been observing Legolas. The elf, in his opinion, was a fascinating one, living up to every tales and legend the elders told from time to time.

Legolas Greenleaf, his name, Aragorn said, was a wood elf, less wise, but still wise none the less, and more dangerous. He had indeed a beauty beyond imagination, a gentle smile, bright pale blue eyes, so old, and wise beyond any men could ever hope to be. When he moves fluently in the battle, releasing the arrows again and again with deadliness through the heart of an enemy, he was like an old warrior, a legend living in only tales.

But right here, in the Meduseld, Legolas was nothing like in that description. Aye, he still wore the same warrior air around him like his own skins, but in his eyes, it was full of affection. Fondness and adoration, for this moment, Legolas was bright and merriful, almost like a child.

Surely, he had never seen this side of Legolas before.

Couldn't find the voice of his own, Éomer watched as Legolas smiled at him briefly, then turned back to shook Gimli's shoulder in gentle manners, the sweet merriful voice called the dwarf's name sounded so loved and caring.

"Gimli, Mellon-nîn." Legolas called. "mellon-nîn, wake up."

"Uh— wha-?"

Gimli stirred a little, the bright brown eyes usually full of mirth, now barely opened as he gazed up at the elf. All those that he could see was some shiny spun of gold, so long, so so long it looked just like a waterfall. The thing was crowned upon the pale face, lovely as a doll. He once had an elf doll, Gimli thought to himself, though his Adad and Amad had not been acceptable about it, no one could resist a wee little Gimli at that time if he had wanted an elf doll. So there, in the end, the dwarfling had been carrying the thing around the blue mountain for decades. He remembered it clearly, it had a long silky hair, the brightest, like the sun, and blue eyes, just like this! But he couldn't remember it to be so blue, so blue and clear like the sky in the morning of first spring. This one in front of him, its eyes were so deep and bright they almost glow in the dim light of the hall. Such a beautiful thing, he thought. The dwarf was so sure he just saw an angel, the fairest one at that, and he told him such.

Legolas giggled. His face lit up sweetly. "Oh, Gimli, you are very sweet when drunk."

Gimli's nose wrinkled in disgust at the thought of him being drunk! Him? The finest, mightiest, warrior of Erebor, drunk!?

"I am not drunk!" The dwarf shouted, or so he thought, as, in fact, it was more of a whispering.

Legolas sighed, petting the red-head. "Of course not. You are too stubborn to be drunk, Master Dwarf."

Gimli's laugh boomed through the hall, startled both the elf and man. He patted the elf's milky white cheek gently. Such a warm skin, so soft, so... velvety. He could do this forever. "And you are a beautiful daft creature!"

Legolas grinned. Éomer could almost see his happiness burst through his lean body. But, surely, the compliment was, a little—- weird—- from one friend to another, was it not?

"Come now, Mellon-nîn, is the floor truly comfortable more than the bed? If you sleep here now, your back will be stiff in the morn, and who has to suffer your complaining?"

Gimli frowned, grumbled slightly. "I don't know, hmm, I don't feel stiff!"

"That's because you drank too much to concentrate, my dear." Legolas sighed, amused, grabbed the dwarf hand to pull him on his feet. "I hope you still feel your legs enough to walk because even my elven strength can't carry you all the way down to our chamber."

Éomer watched as strange couple standing together, one tall and one short, an unusual sight, but somehow, he felt like it was meant to be.

Gimli cried out in frustrating. "Who needs— need you to carry me!? You, crazy elf, I am the mighty warrior of Erebor! I will be the one to carry you!"

The dwarf's legs wobbled. Gimli tried to stand on his own but in the end, he had to lean against the elf's chest and mumbled. "I can't feel my legs."

Legolas laughed "Wait until you can feel your strength came back in your legs, and I will let you do just that."

Gimli still wasn't ready to give up, stubbornly wrapped his arm around Legolas in an attempt to lift him up. Legolas giggled as the shorter one failed miserably and instead, had to lean over the elf even more. The strength of the dwarf became subdued once more as he murmured sadly, something about him couldn't feel his legs and had no strength to carry his elf.

Legolas smiled, patting the dwarf's back soothingly and told him that he would be fine in the next morning, after a good night sleep and warm bath but Gimli still whined, sadden over his losing powerful muscle. So, Legolas hugged the other one tightly and rocked him back and forth.

"Your strength will be back in the morning, Gimli-nîn. For now, you will have to hold on to my hug instead. Can you feel it, dear one?"

Startled, Éomer tried so hard not to make any sound, for he had no mind to interrupt such an affection. Wondered if both the elf and dwarf were truly just friend, they would be very best of it, or if they were actually, lovers? 'Tis not a wide known act in the world of men, but being a warrior himself, Éomer understand the relationship between men enough to not look down on it. Either way, he still felt like he was in the wrong place. Certainly, a wrong place.

Gimli paused, then, whispered loud enough for Éomer to hear, "Maybe."

Legolas sighed fondly. "What about this, then?" Then— he pulled Gimli apart from him, just a little, and leaned forward, kissing the dwarf on his forehead, then his left cheek, and right, and the nose, and then— mouth, again and again, while asked, "Can you feel it, now, Gimli?"

The dwarf laughed happily and Legolas smiled, hugging his Gimli tightly again. This time, the red-headed relaxed in the elf's arm.

"Come now, dear one, let us get to bed so you could sleep comfortably, and I will watch the star beside you tonight."

Éomer watched the elf coaxed the dwarf to follow him, meanwhile, half dragged half carried him to the tunnel led to their chamber, and walked after them, concerned if Legolas could truly bring the heavy dwarf all the way by himself. It was good that nobody was around this time of the night, for those two acted strangely toward each other, somehow he felt like intruding some private moment of a lover, one of a kind at that.

Walking in about six feet behind, he could hear them talked, Legolas merrily, and Gimli, loud but also held the fondness in his voice. Together, the pair walked in no rush, like they forgot Éomer entirely.

When they arrived at the door, Éomer let the elf pulled Gimli inside without intervene, still heard their voice slowly faded into this temporary peaceful night.

"Kiss me again! Your kiss made me feel happy." The dwarf stubbornly announced. "And hug! Hug me!"

The elf giggled sweetly. "I will kiss you and cuddle you after you're in bed, mellon-nîn."

"Fine!"

When the door closed, and the sound inside the room subsided, Éomer exhaled in relieved. He had no idea how long had he held the breath.

"Well, at least they forgot about me."


End file.
